And I Don't Want the World to See Me
by professor lazyass
Summary: 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.  / Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, and how they came to be.
1. And I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You 1

_(And I'd give up forever to touch you,  
>'cause I know that you feel me somehow)<em>

* * *

><p>Astoria grimaces, stepping into the toilet of the faux ladies' loo. Honestly, she thinks, pulling the lever—she gets sucked in, spun and jerked this way and that, before stumbling straight down into a fireplace, effectively shooting pain up from her feet—they should try to think of something a bit more <em>clean<em> to get into the Ministry.

She shakes her head and walks out, falling into the throng of workers, and then eventually makes her way past the fountain and into an elevator. She pushes the button to the seventh floor, vintage briefcase (decorated in black fabric, littered with minuscule white roses)—a gift from her grandmother after Auror training—in hand, quickly grabbing the handle above her as the small space instantaneously jerks backward, her body swinging, and then speedily rising up. Astoria grunts, the elevator sashaying as it hits the ceiling, and puts a hand on the wall, steadying herself before walking out.

"Seriously," she mutters, walking into the Aurors floor. Wizards and witches bustle about, doors along the walls containing offices or file rooms and more, "This place's methods of getting around are _horrid_."

She sighs and rolls her shoulders, nodding at those who greet her as she makes her way down to her small office. She inserts the key and pushes the door open, finding her roommate snoozing on his exceedingly messy and unorganized desk.

"Neville!" she yells, striding over and smacking him up the head; the Longbottom snaps up, snorting, and hastily looks around, calming as he catches Astoria.

"Oh—_oh_," he says, and hurries to grab some paperwork. The brunette woman glares, crossing her arms as he clears his throat and grabs a pencil, muttering as he writes—"Mission _complete_!" With an exaggerated sign of his name, Neville smiles, looking up, fear in his eyes, and nods, "Astoria."

She rolls her eyes and grins, turning around, walking to her own desk. She sits down in her chair, setting her briefcase on the ground beside her, and looks at Neville, who smiles nervously.

"I'm not going to _kill you_," she assures, her officemate sags in relief.

"Sorry," he starts, darting his eyes to anywhere but his partner, "I—um—had a rough night…"

Astoria frowns worriedly, cocking her head, hands holding the edge of her desk as she offhandedly rolls back and forth in her chair, "Are you okay? Did something bad happen?"

"Um—" Neville blushes, his face red, and mutters, "Not—not exactly…" his hand covers his neck, but Astoria's mouth drops, having already seen the damage. She excitedly jumps from her chair, said piece of furniture rolling back as she dashes to her friend's desk.

"That's a hickey!" She yells, and Neville glares, moving away from her. She leans forward, scrambles, flat on his desk, and somehow rips his hand away from his neck, revealing a large, dark bruise under his ear. "You and Luna got it on! You _shagged_!"

There's a beat of silence. She watches Neville's Adam Apple as he swallows, blush multiplying tenfold as he looks away, down to the floor. "We—we didn't _shag_. It—it was more than that…"

Astoria smiles, softening, and steps back. Neville looks at her incredulously. "What?" he asks, brow furrowed, and her smiles widens.

"You love her," she states promptly, and Neville's blush fades. He stares thoughtfully at the top of his desk, which is filled with paper work and reports and new assignments.

"Yeah," he whispers, looking up at Astoria, "I do."

"Um," Astoria prods, wondering if she's getting too personal, but they went through training together, and they're partners now, right?—"was it, uh, your first time?"

Neville nods; the brunette is happy to see him unfazed, "Both of ours."

"Awesome. Um—how—how was it?" She asks, unable to stop herself, hands gripping the sides of her slacks, a virgin herself—though, if she told anyone they probably wouldn't believe her. Astoria doesn't know if she should be proud or not.

"Amazing," Neville answers, with a content and happy grin.

And even though Astoria is happy for him, she wishes she had someone like that, too. She gives Neville a bittersweet smile, and he pouts, mouth opening just as someone walks in.

"Hey, guys," it's Harry, and both of them turn, finding the obviously future Head of the Department striding into the room with papers in his hand, their "moment" or what have you dissolving. Neville groans and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. Astoria smirks as Harry rolls his eyes, "This is mine," the Potter promises, and Neville mutters a relieved "_Yes_."

Astoria turns, hands peeling themselves off of her pants, "What's up, Harry?"

"The Head wants you to go check out some bad parts of Diagon Alley."

"Okay," Astoria answers, nodding, and moves to her desk to grab her cardigan from the back of her chair. She slips it on, and grabs her wand (nine inches, oak, with dragon heartstring), the wood feeling natural in her left hand. "'Course."

Harry nods, giving her a quick grin, "Thanks, Astoria," and he walks out. Astoria's eyes widen, and she quickly chases after him, leaning out the doorway and calling out into the hallway for the whole department to hear, a hand cupped around her mouth.

"Harry! Guess what? Neville and Luna had sex!"

The Potter stills, looking over his shoulder and glaring. "Oh!" Astoria calls, "I'm sorry! I forgot you're in professional-mode! But isn't that awesome? They're really getting _serious_!"

"That's great!" Harry replies from down the hallway, and Astoria grins wolfishly, knowing he said that partly to just shut her up. She gets shoved out of the office and turns around, finding Neville glaring at her intensely, a hand on the doorknob.

"Go," he says coldly, and slams the door in her face. The former Slytherin sticks her tongue out at the oak door, and then turns happily on her heel, skipping off into an elevator.

* * *

><p>Astoria shivers, pulling her brown and white sweater tighter around herself, rubbing her hands against her biceps. Her breath comes out in visible puffs, and she scowls at herself, questioning why she decided to not wear anything heavier. Snow crunches beneath her boots as she walks down the dingy, dark alleyway, and to spare herself from hypothermia, Astoria quickly spots a bar to her right and hurries in, shoulders sagging at the warmth.<p>

There's a scrape of wood and Astoria look up from her shoes, scanning the interior of the pub. The floors are rich brown panels, walls blue painted wood, and two shaky windows rattle from the wind to Astoria's left and right. Soft candles light the room, and the brunette's eyes catch the people occupying the tables: an old woman eating something that looks like barf, garbed in a thin cloak; a woman and seemingly a son, both of them drinking something warm; and a man… in the darkest corner of the bar, hunched over, his back turned towards her. Astoria's stomach jumps for reasons she can't articulate, and she walks towards the bartender (a slightly hefty woman), sliding onto a stool.

Astoria ducks her head, surprisingly shy around people she doesn't know for being so loud around the people she does. She asks for a hot chocolate and gets one, handing the bartender a few Knuts. She stares into the drink as it cools, steam warming her face. Astoria thinks of how she hasn't even always been this loud around people she knows. She was so quiet as a kid, and at Hogwarts. She wonders if it had anything to do with her father's alcoholism, and reasons it obviously does. She also thinks about how she got so happy in the first place, and wonders that it's possibly the Auror training, becoming an Auror being around so many amazing people; having her dueling and general wizarding skills sharpened and honed, having people to fall back on that's boosted her confidence. She never had anyone as a kid. Her mother was in a crippling depression and her sister was just downright mean, and since Astoria was so shy and reclusive back then it wasn't as if she had many—or any—friends.

She sips her hot chocolate, the liquid cool enough to not scald her tongue yet warm enough to heat her throat. She glances at the man in the corner, now horizontal with her, and sets her mug done, licking her lips, continuing to look at him. She worries for his wellbeing, noticing the pale skin and thin arms—he isn't even wearing anything other than a very thin long-sleeve shirt and jeans, for Merlin's sake; she can't get a good view of his face, though. It seems that he's shifted to the side since she sat down at the bar. A hand nudges Astoria's elbow, and she turns, finding the bartender give her a warning look.

"Don't mess with him, girlie. He's a Malfoy; he's a wreck. He comes here every day too," the woman gestures to him, voice barely above a whisper, but judging by the man's wince, Astoria guesses he can hear, "and just orders a coffee and sits. I'm surprised he hasn't even died yet, from what he wears in this weather. Winter came early, and has been awful."

Astoria nods offhandedly, eyes glued to the man, which she now knows is Draco Malfoy. She remembers being so envious of him, of his confidence and demeanor. She was a year below him. She remembers often fretting over him in secret in her fifth year, when he was in sixth. Her roommates (and most of the other female part of her house) always jibed at her, made fun of her, Pansy Parkinson especially. Astoria was infatuated, and she wanted to know more about him. But he was out of school and a Death Eater by the time she'd collected enough courage to actually act on it. She wonders if she's still got that courage—but she's an Auror now, she's changed, hasn't she?

"He looks sad," she whispers, more to herself than anything, and the bartender grunts halfheartedly. Astoria stands, stool scraping, and walks over, mug with her, slipping into the chair across from the Malfoy. The blonde looks up through his eyelashes, and Astoria swallows a gasp. His eyes are bloodshot, lifeless, with heavy purple bags under him. Brown and blue bruises cover his face as if paint on a canvas, and his lip is cut. She sets her cup on the table and notices his coffee is untouched.

"Hello," Astoria murmurs tentatively. He doesn't answer. She doesn't talk, and leaves two hours later. Two hours spent in silence. Astoria smirks and Disapparates to her apartment, feeling rather adventurous even if the only word she'd said to Draco was a hello. Her shift ends in only nine hours; she'll be fine.

* * *

><p>She goes to the pub the next day, and the next, and the next, and so forth. Her times there are always spent in tedious silence.<p>

* * *

><p>After a long lecture from the Head in his office (for skipping her shift by visiting Draco <em>again<em>) and a promise of work this weekend which she previously had off, Astoria giddily walks, nearly skipping to her shared office. It's eight am, and with four and a half hours to go until her lunch time, the morning seems to drag on forever, completely uneventful. No reports, nothing, and Astoria starts thinking about Christmas, which is a month away. She leans back in her chair and sets her feet on her desk, eyes up at the ceiling. Through her peripheral vision, she notices Neville gaze at her questioningly, but shrugs it off.

Without expectations for her sister, Astoria thinks of her mother, Rachel Greengrass. She thinks about her living in that old people's home or what have you run by Muggles in London, and decides it'd be best if she were to visit, maybe bring a little present like daffodils. Her mother always liked daffodils; but she probably doesn't remember that. After her father died, her mother drank her way into oblivion—surprising, since her mother was always so…soft, you could say; ironic as well, as it was the same thing that her father had fallen for—and due to severe alcohol poisoning she got Alzheimer's at the crisp age of thirty-seven, just as Astoria was going into her first year. Ever since then, Astoria had been living with her grandmother until she moved out four years ago, just as she left Hogwarts and entered Auror training. Maybe she should visit her grandmother then, just leave her mother to whittle away—she only remembers _sweet _Daphne, anyhow. Why should Astoria fret over a mother who's dying and doesn't even know her youngest kid's name? But, Astoria thinks, she isn't that kind of person, and reminds herself to leave a mental note to grab some daffodils sometime before Christmas.

Astoria groans, snapping herself out of her thoughts, and spins around in her chair. Neville nods in agreement, and sighs, holding up a set of Self Shuffling Cards.

"Wanna play Exploding Snap?"

With now only six cards set out face down between the two of them and having agreed on playing the Patience version (settled on the floor between their desks), Neville throws Astoria a Chocolate Frog. She quickly eats, not wanting the chocolate to melt messily while playing, and swallows, flipping over a card, which shows Albus Dumbledore. Astoria narrows her eyes, carefully speculating her cards and quickly grabs one to the right before they all shuffle. She drops it, and the pair of cards featuring the former Headmaster explodes, and Astoria grabs the notebook beside her, putting another tally under her name, while Neville only has one.

"Another point!" she cheers, and then coughs from the small supply of smoke. Neville waves it away, grumbling to himself. Astoria gasps, her watch emitting church bell-esque chimes.

She scrambles up, stumbling, and hurriedly pulls on her pea coat. Neville stands, eyebrows furrowed. "Astoria? What're you—"

"Lunch break," she says hastily, slipping her wand up her sleeve; and before Neville can ask more questions, she's out the door and sprinting down the hallway.

* * *

><p>Astoria doesn't exactly know why she's doing this, but she's running down the same street as always, walking into the same pub, much to the bartender's surprise. Astoria pants, sitting on the stool she continuingly occupies, and wastes no time ordering another hot chocolate—lunch only lasts for an hour. She gives the woman money, and then slowly looks to her right, heart seeming to flip as she sees Draco there again. She rises and walks over, setting the mug down and seating herself across from the Malfoy.<p>

Her heart hammers as he looks up; his grey eyes dull, but still so, so pretty, the first interaction he's showed her. She swallows, palms beginning to sweat, and notices he's even more injured than yesterday. Lips slightly parted, times seem to slow as her hand reaches out on its own accord, finger tips grazing Draco's temple. His hand catches her wrist in a steely grip, and Astoria stares at him as his eyes bore into her.

"You need to leave," he says, voice raspy and scratchy. She shakes her head no, and his lips purse. "Why are you here," he asks, and Astoria shrugs.

"I'm an old classmate—"

"Astoria Greengrass," he says, and Astoria nods, surprised.

"How did you—"

"In sixth year," he starts, breathing heavily, and Astoria wonders if talking this much is using a lot of effort on his part, causing a pang of guilt, "you were the one that took me to the hospital wing when I collapsed in the hallway."

"I… Yes," Astoria confirms, wrist still in his hand. It feels nice, she thinks.

"St—Stay away from—"

"You're bleeding," Astoria says softly, eyes staring the red soaking through various parts of Draco's thin sweater (today its blue). He scowls, dropping her wrist, and her hand thuds against the wood tabletop. Draco glares, and Astoria knows he is because he's unable to talk, maybe even unable to breath.

"Let me help you," she says, and before he can refuse she's standing, his thin arm in her tight grip, both of them vanishing the bar with a _pop_.

* * *

><p>Astoria gasps as Draco falls onto her side, unconscious, and she points her wand at her flat's doorknob, muttering "<em>Alohomora,<em>" and quickly lugging him inside. She maneuvers down the small hallway and into the living room, dropping him on to the couch with a grunt.

Wasting no time, and figuring Draco should probably be at St. Mungo's, Astoria struggles his shirt off, gasping at the deep gashes along his torso. She swallows, muttering charms to slow the bleeding, and dashes to the bathroom, scouring for something, a flask of Essence of Dittany (even though the medicine is extremely rare), _anything_. She hears Draco mosn and pokes her head out from the kitchen, finding him twitching uncontrollably on the couch, still out of it. She sprints over, and tries using various spells from Auror training, none of which heal the wounds completely.

"_Dammit!_"

Astoria groans and grips Draco's arm, Disapparating them both to St. Mungo's.

"Help!" She screams, holding the Malfoy close to her as she stumbles into the main floor of the wizarding hospital. There are bouts of pain in her leg, and in her hurry she thinks she splinched herself, but is too worried to care. "Help!" she yells again, and Healers in bright green robes come over, asking what happened as someone conjures a stretcher. Astoria pants and sweat thickly covers her hairline as she watches Draco being rolled away, and tries to chase after him, though another Healer holds her back.

"I—I think he used Sectumsempra on himself—but—but I—"

Astoria cuts herself off, fearing that if she talks anymore she'll cry. The Healer says a few things that Astoria doesn't hear, and soon enough she's directed to her own room where her leg (and its missing piece of skin and muscle) is taken care of. She's told to rest, that Draco will be fine and that despite the power of the spell the wounds are easy to deal with. Astoria refuses to do so, and tries various times to make her way out of her room, resulting in causing her bad leg to start bleeding again and again, until Neville and Luna show up and calm her down.

"The Healers told us that you were here," Neville explains as Astoria halfheartedly spoons some applesauce into her mouth, "and I came as soon as I could—Luna too," he nods in the direction of his girlfriend, and Astoria turns to her, watching the pretty blonde smile softly.

"I'm fine," she says, setting the watery applesauce on the table beside her, still in her clothes from earlier which are now slightly bloodied, patting the side of her left leg, "just lost some leg muscle."

"You _what_—Astoria—that's not _fine_!"

Astoria rolls her eyes, and then notices Luna frowning, and the Lovegood places a hand on Neville's arm. "She said she's fine, Neville."

"But—that's not—"

Luna smiles and nods at Astoria, who furrows her eyebrows, "I am sure that Astoria can determine if she's alright or not."

"But people say that they're fine _all the time_, and—and—they aren't!"

Astoria smiles to herself, looking down in her lap which is covered by a thin blanket, happy to know that Neville's freaking out over her—that she has someone that she didn't have as a kid; it feels good.

After Astoria claims that _Yes Neville, I'm fine _multiple times, he sits down in the uncomfortable seat beside the hospital bed, Luna sits on the arm of the chair, and Astoria feels awkward, not used to having attention like this. She squirms, restless, wanting to see Draco despite the fact that they aren't even close. They've barely even talked to each other, but somehow, Astoria wants to do that more. She wants be friends with him, despite his past—though she thinks that his past isn't all that bad. She wants to make him happy, to make him smile, and, she thinks that his smile is probably radiant. Yet, with Neville here, and maybe Luna, that won't do well.

"Um, Neville?" Astoria asks, and her friend worriedly looks up, firing off questions immediately.

"Are you okay?"

"Neville—"

"Is—is your leg okay? Do you need something? Are you—"

"—Mother of God—"

"Should I get a Healer? _Luna I need to go_—"

"_Neville!_" the Longbottom stills right after Astoria yells, and clutches Luna's shoulder, who pats his forearm comfortingly. Astoria rolls her eyes (not really annoyed), continuing.

"I just need some clothes, these are dirty. Can you grab some from my apartment?"

Neville nods, grins, and stands, quickly pulling on his coat. Luna chirps beside him, eyebrows furrowed, "Should I go with him, Astoria?"

"Er—" Astoria thinks quickly, figuring if she's going to see Draco she can't with this leg, "—um, could you not? I, uh, need help… with something…"

Luna beams, her hands clasped in front of herself, "Of course!" and thankfully, after giving Luna a swift kiss on the cheek, Neville heads out of the room.

Astoria scrambles off of the bed and stands, leaning on Luna for support, who gasps. "Astoria! You need to get back in bed—your leg!"

The brunette winces, moving her hand from Luna's shoulder to the bed. Her leg throbs, but she quickly dismisses the pain, staring at Luna fiercely as the woman bites her lip.

"I need your help, okay? I want to go see Draco."

Luna purses her lips, looking exceedingly worried, "But Astoria, you need to rest—and Draco can't be visited—and—and you could get _hurt_—"

"Luna, _please_," Astoria begs, something she doesn't do often, and Luna pauses, before sighing and giving in.

"If you _must_—"

"I—I do," Astoria answers, words coming out of her mouth on their own accord. Luna stares at her, bright blue eyes unwavering, and she smiles.

"Stay by me," she whispers, as if keeping a secret, and Astoria does, walking towards the exit. Luna opens the room's door and looks left and right down the clean hallway as Astoria waits behind her, and then follows the former Ravenclaw out into the empty hallway. The both of them sneak down, staying glued to the wall with Luna slightly in front of Astoria, who limps, pain making her leg pound. Luna pauses at the end of the hallway, looking over her shoulder with a silent question. Astoria nods (_I'm fine_,) and they turn, wary of any visitors or Healers. Somehow, they maneuver through three more corridors and dodge the gazes of two Healers, finally reaching the elevator. Luna and Astoria quickly slip in, and Luna presses the button that makes the doors shut so they don't have to wait for them to close.

Astoria grimaces and leans against the wall, leg feeling horrid, and breathes deeply through her nose. She's got this. She's fine, peachy clean. The bandages around her leg gets heavier, and Astoria mutters a quick curse as blood trickles down her calf. There's a hand on her elbow, and her eyes flicker open, finding Luna staring at her questioningly.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asks, and Astoria nods, pushing herself off of the wall as the elevator dings, wondering where Luna took them. "I'm fine."

Luna nods, not looking the least bit assured but walks out of the elevator slowly, the both of them knowing that this floor is much busier than the one above it. Healers bustle about, yelling, stretchers floating between groups with sick or injured patients between them. Astoria barely notices Luna has something in her hands until something falls over the both of them, and Astoria bends a little on instinct, gasping as she realizes what the thing is.

"Luna!" she whispers, the blonde carefully navigating them along the hallway, "How the hell did you get this?"

"Nicked it from Harry," Luna quietly, promptly whispers back, "had a feeling we'd use it," and Astoria pauses, not knowing what to say.

"I… you're amazing, Luna, you know that?"

Luna turns, looking slightly puzzled, as if Astoria had said that randomly. "Thank you…"

* * *

><p>"Alright," Luna says, pulling off the cloak. After overhearing some Healers earlier, Astoria learned they were on the Spell Damage floor and that Draco's room was number four hundred-thirty-two, "You go in, Astoria. I'll tell Neville something upstairs."<p>

Astoria beams, having a newfound respect for the blonde woman, "Thank you, Luna," and there's something in Luna's eyes, something that says she knows something that Astoria doesn't, and the brunette doesn't exactly like it.

"You're welcome," Luna replies, and then hurries Astoria in Draco's room.

Astoria leans against the door for a second, wary of her leg, and then pushes off, stumbling as quietly as she can towards Draco, who's sleeping in his bed, hands tucked under his head. Her heart falls as she falls into the chair beside his bed with a sigh, and wonders if she wanted him awake or not. A thin blanket is wrapped tightly around him, though his shoulders are exposed and Astoria can see a hint of bandages wrapped around his torso. Relief washes over her as she sees his chest fall and rise softly.

Her eyes travel up his shoulder and to his collarbone, then to his face. She's happy to see that most of the bruises are gone, and that his lip has been healed. Astoria pauses, and then with a shaking arm places her hand on Draco's shoulder, and it's warm. Draco shifts, and Astoria smiles, perking up as his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, dopily grins, but then snaps up. He gasps, hands flying to the bandages and Astoria's eyes widen as she stands, a hand reaching out though she doesn't know what she wants to do.

Draco pants, slowly calming down, and he glares at the brunette, who stares right back. "Where the fuck am I?" he asks, and Astoria drops her hand to the edge of the bed.

"Saint Mungo's; you were about to _die_, Draco. Did you _want_ to kill yourself?"

Astoria stares at him, and he stares right back, and then she glares, "You _were _trying to kill yourself, weren't you? You barely wore anything, and you just sat in that damn bar waiting to die. How many times have you used Sectumsempra on yourself, Draco? How many?"

The man doesn't answer, continues to stare, and Astoria scowls, mad at herself.

"I can't believe I came all the way down here with half of my leg gone _for you_! I can't believe I tried to make you happy; I can't believe how I thought that just _maybe _you weren't as pathetic as everyone says you are!" Astoria's chest heaves, hands curled into fists, and she gives a bark-like laugh. "I was so _stupid_, wasn't I?"

Astoria sneers, "_Pathetic_," and turns on her heel, trying to walk away with as much force as she can muster with a ruined leg. About to open the door, she freezes at the sound of Draco's voice.

"Wait."

It's just a word, Astoria reminds herself. But it has so much power. It sounds helpless, confused, lost, and Astoria turns around, facing the Malfoy with a shaking form, feeling an emotion she can't quite place.

"W_—What_?"

Draco pauses, looking at her with solemn, slate eyes, and Astoria notices that they don't seem as dead anymore.

"Don't go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA ABOUT HOW EXCITED I AM FOR THIS LKJTOWIA ;GOJRWAITR._

Anyways. This is going to be a multi-chap Draco/Astoria (which is purdy much the only het pairing I'm interested in writing—which is good I guess because there's like zero Draco/Astoria anything anywhere) fic based off of the amazing song _Iris _by the Goo Goo Dolls. They're will be a line-thing for each chapter, but the song may not be entirely in order because then the story itself would be weird. Also, there may be regular chapters in between each part of the song, just to finish up the first set of lyrics before we move onto the next. And even though this chapter is about 4,617 words (minus lyrics and AN) I still think it's too short but whateva whateva.

Please tell me how you like it!

Also, updates may be about every two weeks because of my actual life and because of the fact that I have two other stories going on. I always start too many things before finishing others, and I should be worried about that—but I'm not!

HEY CHECK THIS OUT: Since I really like this universe thing I'll probably write some unrelated one-shots set in it, and just put in Iris-verse in the summary. I've got this smut idea but lol how do you write dat so it'll most likely be a hot damn shirtless make out session and everyone will hate me for stopping it.

Please **review**! I want to hear your opinion!

ALSO I'M JUST REALLY EXCITED OKAY LET ME VENT HERE FOR LIKE TWO SECONDS I THINK THAT THE PLOT IS AWESOME YAY SOON THEY'LL BE NAKED IN A LAKE AND THERE WILL BE ANGST AND DADDY PROBLEMS AND I'LL STOP TALKING LULZ.

**EDIT: **Dammit ff. The line breaks got erased, but I put them back in. Also, I hate that share thing in the corner up top. Totally ruins the look of the lyrics. Ugh,


	2. And I'd Give Up Forever to Touch You 2

After getting a stern lecture from the Healers, her leg fixed up again, and a week off of work (the potions—though disgusting as they are—work very fast), Astoria visits Draco as much as she can as his injuries from the Sectumsempra to heal, as well as his severe fever from wearing such thin clothes in the cold weather. And it's nice, Astoria thinks, or as nice as it can get when the other person ignores you.

Friendship is the wrong word for it. Astoria would even call it a stretch to name it acquaintanceship. Draco simply tolerates her; tolerates her fluffing his pillow every second, shoving food down his throat and talking to him constantly just to fill the silence that _he _creates, and simultaneously Astoria wonders why she's doing it. She's never really had that much of a maternal instinct, though she'll often put her friend's health before her own, but again, Draco isn't necessarily a friend, so Astoria just does everything because she wants to, because this voice in the back of her head always orders her to (_You have to Astoria—just do it—you have to_), and she listens.

Like now, standing beside Draco and smoothing out his blanket. He turns, left arm glued to his side (something that he always does), garbed in a t-shirt and pajama pants, and Astoria pauses, frowns, as he looks at her.

"Why are you here?" he asks, and the brunette bites her lip, not really sure herself. She replies.

"I don't want you to get lonely..."

Draco snorts, staring at the wall of his room, "Lonely…" He whispers the word as if he can't believe it, and after a pause looks at her again through the corner of his eyes.

"It's just that the whole world basically hates me and my family, and I don't know why you seem to be an exception."

Astoria frowns, "I don't think that you're a bad person."

"How?"

"I just—I just do."

Draco stares at her incredulously, and then frowns, eyeing her, "You can't believe that," and with vigor, Astoria steps forward, lips pulled into a determined, thin line.

"Then give me a reason to."

And he does.

Somehow, Astoria finds him opening up. He tells her about his father, about Hogwarts and Lucius rotting in Azkaban for the rest of his life and his depressed as can be mother and about Voldemort, left arm clamped to his side and face straight through all of the retelling, something that Astoria admires. Everything seems so gruesome, and the Greengrass marvels at how Draco made it out alive, or at least with his sanity intact. And soon enough, she's sitting cross legged at the end of his bed, spilling out the details of her father and how he was an alcoholic and left the family without a trace. How her mother then drank her way into oblivion and got Alzheimer's, how her sister got so _mean _and angry after that, taking her anger out on Astoria, and once they got to school, other people.

Astoria talks warmly of her grandmother, the old woman now content at her home and of Daphne lightly, saying that she's working at the Daily Prophet and that's that, much to Draco's confusion. Astoria feels over dramatic, like none of this compares to anything that the Malfoy's been through. She mutters this, looking down at her lap.

"I feel so stupid," she says quietly, frowning and looking up at Draco's voice, finding his legs curled to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.

"My problems aren't any worse than yours, really, if the amount of damage is the same."

Astoria stares at him, trying to figure the man out. "Why are you being so nice?" she asks, genuinely wondering, and Draco shrugs.

"You're the only one I've got."

Astoria's lip part in surprise, and she gulps, feeling inclined to say something, but Draco talks again before she even gets a chance to think of anything.

"—unless, of course, you come to your senses and _leave_."

Astoria rolls her eyes, feeling that they had something there—a moment, you could say—and that Draco just shattered it, purposely. She doesn't answer, and instead shuffles off of the bed and walks over to the man, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. Despite her never having a maternal instinct, she's thinks she might be growing one.

"You're burning up," she murmurs, and lays a hand on his shoulder, trying to push him down, which he won't allow. Astoria glares and he glares right back.

"You need to rest," she insists, lips pressed together and eyes narrowed, and she forcefully pushes on his shoulder again, making him lie flat on the bed with wide eyes.

"Jesus," Draco says, and Astoria smirks.

"Sleep," she orders, and Draco grumbles, before turning around, his back to her as she sits in the seat next to his bed yet again.

* * *

><p>Draco gets out of the hospital two weeks later, and since no one else is there Astoria comes as usual.<p>

"What do you mean you don't have a flat?" she asks, the both of them standing outside of the seemingly bare warehouse, "Did you live in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"No."

"Do you live at the Manor?"

Draco laughs, and Astoria growls—"So you were _homeless_?"

Draco doesn't answer, averting his eyes, and Astoria scoffs. His head snaps up and he glares, spitting out harshly, "I'll be fine on my own."

Astoria snorts, "Obviously not, dumbass," and grabs his arm, Disapparating them both to her flat with a soft crack.

"You're staying here," she says, letting go and leaving him in the living room as she makes her way to the kitchen. She pulls out a kettle from the cabinet and uses her wand to fill it with water. As it warms on the stove, Astoria turns around, finding Draco sitting at the island with a stern frown.

"I'm not staying," he says, and Astoria leans against the counter, arms crossed.

"Well you can't go back to the Manor. Your mother can't even look after _herself_."

"Don't talk about—"

Astoria cuts him off, rolling on, "You said it yourself."

Draco pauses, lips pulled in a thin line and then talks again, "I don't need to be taken care of."

The kettle whistles, and as Astoria pours some water in a mug, she answers, "I know. But you need to be looked after—"

"I'm not a child!"

Astoria whips around, water falling out of her cup, "—you nearly killed yourself Draco! You committed suicide, and I'm _not_ letting that happen again!"

Draco glares, "And why do you fucking care so much?" his voice escalates, "Why shouldn't I just bloody _die_—!"

Astoria growls and drops the mug, paying no heed to the shattered glass, and strides over, gripping Draco's collar and pulling him forward, so close their noses are centimeters apart. The two former Slytherins stare at each other, as if daring the other to talk. Astoria shakes, with anger or some other emotion, she doesn't know. And guessing by the spark in Draco's eyes he's in a rush of adrenaline as well.

"Don't say that," Astoria mutters, voice strong and low at the same time, "Just—I'm giving you a _chance _Draco. Something no one else will bother to give. You can either take it or go off and kill yourself. _And,_" Astoria continues, the tip of her wand pressing against Draco's neck, "if you _really _want to die, I can just do it myself."

Draco sneers, eyes narrowed, "You wouldn't."

"Of course I would. All it takes is a little green light."

Draco's doesn't answer, and relief swoops through Astoria, though she doesn't let it show.

She pushes him and back then turns, crouching down, and points her wand at the shattered glass, muttering "_Repairo_." The shards come together and repair themselves, and Astoria catches the mug in her hand. She swipes a towel from the counter after setting the mug down, and just as she's about to wipe up the water, Draco's suddenly there, taking the towel from her hands.

"I'll get it," he says gently, and does so. He rises, and Astoria stays where she is. They stare at each other for the brunette doesn't know how long, and something… happens. An agreement passes between them, almost, and the corners of Astoria's lips quirk.

"You're sleeping on the couch."

* * *

><p>There's something weird about finding one of the (supposedly) most cold, stoic, mean student in your entire former house with bedhead. Astoria nearly laughs, but deciding this isn't the best morning to get the silent treatment, passes it off as a cough. Draco sits at the island awkwardly, constantly looking around the tan kitchen, as if not knowing what to do with himself, and she snorts and walks in, stretching innocently.<p>

"Oh, _hey_ Draco!" she greets, dragging out the 'hey', and he looks at her, nodding stiffly. Astoria smirks slyly and pours herself a cup of coffee, hair pulled in a braid swinging as she slides to the island.

"Morning," she says, sipping some coffee, and Draco eyes her suspiciously.

"What are you doing?"

Astoria shrugs nonchalantly, "Just trying to strike up a conversation; you?"

"I'm leaving," he states promptly, causing Astoria to raise an eyebrow. Draco continues.

"Just beacause I'm sleeping here doesn't mean I'll… hang out with you. I won't even be staying here that long. I'll go and get a room at the Leaky Cauldron, or something."

"_Well_," Astoria starts exaggeratingly, "good luck with that. Most of Hogsmeade was damaged in the war, and lots of people are staying there, in case you haven't noticed Mr. I-Live-In-Alleys." This is actually why Astoria's flat is in Muggle London, but even if Hogsmeade _were _intact, she'd still be living here, she figures. Muggles fascinate her, much to her sister's annoyance. Not that Astoria honestly cares about Daphne's opinion. "—so you won't be living there. And as stated before you can't go to the Malfoy Manor. So it's either here or at a hotel or you get your own flat—which you can't, because you have no money."

"My father's vault is completely full."

"Your fathers vault was emptied out after he was sent to… after the war," Astoria says, cautious of mentioning Lucius's stay at Azkaban, not knowing how Draco is about it.

Draco scowls, "That was my family's money!"

"_Which_," Astoria starts, holding a hand up as if it'll calm the Malfoy down—which it doesn't, "you or your mother can get anytime you choose. But that wouldn't even help you with the whole place to live thing because you still don't have any Muggle money!" Astoria smiles, acting as if this is the most obvious thing in the world, and then watches Draco frown before looking at her again.

"Then how do you live here?"

Astoria takes another swig of coffee before answering. "I work part-time at this amusement park about an hour out of London—it's closed down for season, now. Though I've got enough in savings for the winter..."

"A… what?"

Astoria frowns, and then snaps herself out of her savings-stupor, "Oh—an amusement park; it's got huge rides and games and fireworks; really good food, too," Astoria smiles, "You should come with me sometime. It's fun."

"No thank you," Draco answers sarcastically, and Astoria rolls her eyes at him for the umpteenth time.

"Anyways," she says, staring at her coffee and finding none of it, "we're going shopping; I'm off today. You need clothes and I have Muggle money and know how to _use _it."

Draco frowns, crossing his arms, "I can use Muggle money."

"Oh yeah?" Astoria looks around and snatches a lone note from the island, holding it up, one eyebrow cocked, and asks, "How much is this worth?"

Draco rolls his eyes, "I'm not playing stupid guessing games—"

"How much is it worth, _Draco_?" she repeats, and the man grumbles, then stares at the note for a few seconds.

"Its… it's a… a five, right?"

"No," Astoria says triumphantly, "It's a twenty."

Draco scowls, ignores her, and Astoria cheekily informs him, "I'm gonna go freshen up, and then we'll shop, okay?"

"Whatever."

She grins and walks into her room.

* * *

><p>With her hands in her dark pea coat, pink scarf wrapped around her neck, and tan hat complete with ear flaps, strings, and cat ears atop her brunette waves, Astoria jovially walks down a sidewalk of London, about ten minutes from her flat with a grumbling Draco at her side. She takes hold of his wrist and turns into a shop, feeling him slump immediately at the warmth. Hastily, she hurries the both of them over to the men's section and helps Draco find a thick coat.<p>

"How about this?" she asks, holding up a brown leather jacket by the hanger innocently. Draco glares and she shrugs, setting it back on the rack while muttering, "Just trying to make a suggestion…"

"Here," Draco says, and Astoria turns around, finding him holding out a black trench coat that seems to stop at the thigh. She cocks her head, looking at the coat, then at Draco, and then at the coat again.

"That's a bit formal, don't you think?"

She sees Draco gulp, a blush spreading against his pale cheeks as he mutters, "I like formal…," and she softens, smiling lightly and taking the coat from his hands. She feels around the inside of the collar, finds the tag, mouth dropping at the price.

"This is forty pounds!"

She looks up at Draco, who flusters uncharacteristically, "Is—is that expensive?"

"Kind of, yeah," Astoria answers, but then looks at how thin Draco's sweater is, and decides he needs some regular clothes too. The rest can be bought at a wizarding shop with the Malfoy's money, no matter how much Astoria despises wizarding clothes—it's all just not her thing—she also figures that this month's rent can be pushed to next month.

"But… it's okay."

"Are you sure?"

Astoria looks up from the cloak, finds Draco staring at her worriedly, and bites her lip, quickly looking away and pushing the coat in his hands like some stupid little _schoolgirl_. Attempting to get some of her toughness or what have you back, she passes him, elbowing his side during the process.

"'Course I am. Just wear it."

After shopping at five different stores (Draco is just so damn picky) till about three, he's got two new sweaters, one cardigan, one pair of jeans, and a few normal t-shirts as well—all of which _wasn't _cheap, Astoria thinks bitterly. But, as she glances at him from the corner of her eye, he's warm at least, in that damn forty pound coat of his. He's also carrying the shopping bags, which Astoria feels is the rightful punishment as they're pretty heavy. Her stomach sounds as they cross the street, and the Auror turns to Draco, who's looking at all of the lights strung against trees and Christmas decorations like a little kid. It's cute.

"Let's get something to eat," she suggests, and Draco looks at her, nodding silently in agreement.

They go to a restaurant, and Astoria scrapes up the rest of the money she has to order them a pizza, the act giving Draco a guilty look. Astoria sips her soda and frowns, "What?"

Draco pauses, looks down at the floor as if saying what he's about to say is very hard, "You're just buying me all of these… things."

Astoria shrugs, trying to mask her being flattered at his concern—something she wasn't expecting. "It's stuff you need, right? Besides," she adds, "you're going to pay me back anyways."

"But I don't have Muggle—"

Astoria cuts him off, "We're roomies now—roommates. And roommates share rent."

"But how—"

"You see, Draco," Astoria says, placing her hands on the table as if it'll further prove her point, "there is this little thing called a _job_. And when you successfully do this said _job_, then you get paid with _money_, which you can then use to pay for bills, food, clothing, etcetera."

"You mean a _Muggle_ job?" Draco exclaims, and Astoria fervently leans over the table, smacking him upside the head as people stare.

"Would you shut up!" she whispers hurriedly, "You're causing a scene!"

Draco scowls and leans in closer, lowering his voice, "What do you mean a Muggle job? I know nothing about the Muggle world!"

Astoria rolls her eyes, "That's why I'm going to teach you some stuff when we get that home! It's rather simple, anyways."

"How do you expect me to learn about Muggles in one night—I don't even know what that thing you use to make coffee is!"

"It's a _coffeemaker, _Draco," Astoria says. She catches the waiter bringing their food, and tells him to promptly shut up. Once the waiter sets the food down at the table, Astoria smirks, giving Draco a mocking look with her eyebrows raised.

"And this is _pizza_, Draco," which makes him scowl. She puts a slice on her plate, and just when she's about to eat she catches the manager come out. Hurriedly, Astoria leans over the table again and pulls Draco close by the collar.

He gasps, and then glares, "What are you—"

"Kiss me—its couple's night or some shit. If we look like we're dating we get half off—" And Astoria's hands curl around the back of Draco's neck, and his cup the sides of her face. Their lips crash together and there's a pause when the manager looks at them and then goes along his merry way. They should be pulling away now, but instead Draco growls and pushes forward, and Astoria gasps into the kiss. His tongue swipes along her bottom lip, and _holy hell—_

Astoria quickly retracts, back slamming into her seat. Draco hastily does the same, and the brunette woman gulps, suddenly interested in the ivory table cloth.

"Good pizza, eh?" _–also, remind me to never come here on a Saturday again. _

Though the inquiry is silent, Draco nods, and Astoria has a sneaking suspicion that he isn't agreeing with her about the food.

* * *

><p>"That never happened."<p>

Astoria pulls her hat back on and frowns, glancing at Draco from the corner of her eye as he walks by her side; they just left the restaurant, and silently created a pact to never go again.

"Well," she starts, "It was the least you could do to repay me for the food and clothes. Besides, it was a pretty good snog."

"What snog?" Draco asks, and Astoria rolls her eyes. They fall into a comfortable silence, cars and taxis and double-decker buses (top decks covered in snow) whizzing past them. Astoria pauses, ceases in walking, and Draco stops, looking back at her confusedly. Astoria's lips part and she looks at him, as if she can't believe her eyes.

"Have you ever had a friend, Draco?"

She sees Draco open his mouth, and then close it, and then open it again. "What kind of question is that?"

Astoria stares at the ground, at the snow pushed to the sides of the sidewalk, and starts talking, to herself more than anything. "You haven't had a friend, have you?" She murmurs, and thinks of those two goons whose names she can't remember, of Pansy Parkinson—that _bitch_—and realizes that Draco hasn't ever had an actual friend, someone to care for him; and Astoria's thoughts fly to Neville, of how he cares about her, and she wants to care for Draco like that too.

Astoria's head snaps up, and she smiles, much to Draco's confusion. She walks back up to him, nearly skipping, and laces her arm with his. Draco awkwardly walks along with her.

"I think I'll be your friend," Astoria says, breaths coming out in visible puffs. She looks at him, "Would you like that?" and Draco pauses. She watches him, as he seems to silently contemplate. He doesn't answer, just tugs her harder so they're closer than ever, and Astoria takes it as a yes.

"That snog was the start of a beautiful friendship, I think."

"I haven't a lick of what you're talking about."

Astoria grins, and pats his arm, a shopping bag hanging from her elbow as Draco carries the other. "Of course you don't."

* * *

><p>"Okay," Astoria starts, sitting down in front of the couch in the living room, garbed in pajamas. Draco sits on the other side of the coffee table (which is in between them), wearing the same type of clothes as well. She pulls out a few pounds, laying them across the counter in order of amount, from least to greatest. Draco frowns down at them.<p>

"If you're going to get a Muggle job, you've got to know Muggle money. This," she holds up a one pound note, "is one pound, alright?—pretty small amount, about four Sickles." Astoria sets the note away, describes the others, and then holds up a twenty pound one, "This is twenty pounds, which is about four Galleons."

Draco purses his lips and suddenly stands up. Astoria worriedly rises as well and follows him as he makes his way to the front door.

"Draco! What the hell was—"

He whips around, and Astoria stumbles back. "This is bloody ridiculous," he snarls, and Astoria rolls her eyes.

"Well damn, I thought—"

"I am not getting a fucking _Muggle _job! This whole thing," he gestures between the two of them, "is _insane_! We barely know each other!"

"I'm hurt, Draco," Astoria says sarcastically, "I really felt that—"

"I'm leaving," Draco mutters, hand on the doorknob, and, but before Astoria can ask anything, he's is out the door and down the hallway. Astoria's chest heaves and she pauses, before running out.

"Wait! Come on, Draco! You—you're still in your jammies!"

But when she drops her hand from her mouth, Draco isn't there to ignore her or roll his eyes or give a snippy, sarcastic comment, and Astoria dashes inside of the flat, pulls on her coat, hat, scarf, and trainers, and Disapparates, not exactly sure of where to go.

Astoria pants and stumbles, crisp, cold, ten-at-night wind whipping around her. She finds herself in Diagon Alley with snowflakes twirling away in the air and walks worriedly, slush from the ground soaking the ends of her sweatpants, in a desperate search for an asshole that doesn't deserve the attempt. She walks around aimlessly, passes Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes (and then remembers it just reopened, and then remembers the owner, and then remembers the owner's dead twin). Her heart clenches with sympathy, and she pauses near the joke shop, but, with more pressing matters at hand, she treks past it and into a slushy alleyway.

She doesn't know why she turned in here, and acutely wonders if someone sneaked some Felix Felicis into her soda from earlier, for she hears choked sobs, and her stomach flips. She walks down the alley cautiously, shadows increasing as she goes deeper and deeper, and eventually, she sees a pale blonde head of hair. Astoria smirks and knowing better, doesn't tackle him in a hug like she so desperately wants to. Instead, she walks over and sits beside the Malfoy on the curb. He continues to cry even with her right there beside him, and Astoria's chest warms—she thinks he trusts her.

Honestly, she doesn't know why this whole crying fit is so spontaneous, but she wraps her arm around Draco's shoulder, forcing him to turn, and circles her arms completely around his middle, her nose buried in his hair. Her eyes flutter close as he shivers and burrows himself closer to her, almost childishly. Astoria rubs his back, lips pulled into a wolfish grin.

"Are you on your period?"

Draco calms and snorts, pulling back, but Astoria growls and keeps him close, not wanting him to get a fever again. Surprisingly, he doesn't resist. And they sit there, in that dirty alley, for Lord knows how long, but somehow, they've switched places, with Astoria leaning against him. Though, her arms are still possessively looped tightly around his waist.

"I'm your friend, okay? You… you can tell me stuff." Astoria chirps suddenly, and she feels Draco nod against her head.

"Okay."

"Okay," she replies. And then, he tells her stuff. And in a few parts he cries. And that's okay.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **As I said before, there will be chapters after the chapters with lyrics, just so we can tie any loose ends connected to those lyrics. I feel that_ and I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow, _means that they can relate to each other; that these two people are in a desperate attempt to find each other, because they're the only ones who understand the other's problems Or at least, that's my interpretation. Also, I know that Astoria was the one that comforted Draco, but fret not, Draco will have his turn soon.

The lyrics up next are _you're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't want to go home right now. _Those two chapters will be in Draco's POV, so stay tuned! Speaking of point of views, they'll alternate between these two. I hope this chapter wasn't as boring as I think it was. Have some shoujo-manga-esque romance!

Before I go, I'm just going to say that Draco's mood swings will only get worse from here on out. And no, he's not on his period. Or pregnant.

Anyways, I love you! Thanks for reading!

**PS:** I'm sorry this sucked so much and was boring as hell and really romantic-comedy-ish and just overall terrible.


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